Chapter 50 Gayle
G AYLE
Mike’s fast asleep when Gayle’s phone pings with a message from Lizzie.
Mom, Noah video called me last night. So good to see his face!
Did you know he’s grown a beard? Looks great!
How did you go talking to Pop about him?
Gayle’s heart constricts.
Not as well as I hoped, sugar. Your pop is set in his ways. He won’t back down.
Keep trying, Mom.
Mike opens his eyes. ‘Everything okay, hon?’
Gayle puts down the phone and pats his shoulder. ‘Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep.’
He rubs his eyes and checks the digital clock on the bedside table. ‘I’ve slept enough. I’ll have a quick shower and fix us a coffee before breakfast.’
Bolstered by Lizzie’s message, she says, ‘Hon, about Noah.’
He groans. ‘Again with Noah? I just opened my eyes.’
‘I know you’re sick of talking about it, and to be completely honest with you, so am I. But it’s kept me up all night and I just have to get this out or I never will.’ Her voice is shaky and her palms are sweaty. ‘Noah and Lizzie video chatted yesterday. Do you know he’s grown a beard? Lizzie told me just now and it’s made me wonder, is his beard brown or grey or a bit of both? And I don’t want to be wondering what my son looks like, I want to know . This has gone on for long enough, and I want Noah back in my life, even if that means I have to do it without you. I won’t lose my son forever over this feud, I just won’t. So when we get back home, I’m going to LA to see Noah, with or without you.’ She’s trembling all over by the time she finishes saying that.
‘Huh? What do you mean? For how long?’
‘As long as it takes to make things right. I’m not prepared to wait any longer for you to accept him for who he is.’
Mike’s fully awake now, his eyes wide. ‘You sound like you hate me.’
Her instinct is to immediately back down and apologise. ‘I could never hate you. I love you dearly and I always will. But I love my son too,’ she says firmly. ‘It’s time we admit how badly we’ve treated him. And I’m not just talking about the argument you had about his marriage, I’m talking about all of it. We never should’ve made him dig that hole.’ She keeps her arms crossed and adds, rather unnecessarily, but it’s the phrase that she can’t get out of her head so she says it anyway: ‘Love is love.’
‘ Love is love ?’ Mike spits. ‘Heck, I feel like you’ve switched sides to join the radical left. Who’s brainwashed you? Have you been listening to a podcast or something? It’s that Oprah Winfrey, isn’t it? Or Jon Stewart. Is it Jon Stewart?’
Gayle’s cheeks burn. ‘Can’t I have a mind of my own?’
‘But you’re talking rubbish! Love is love . Are you going to march in Mardi Gras next?’
Gayle doesn’t answer. She throws back the covers and puts on her gown and slippers.
‘Where are you going?’ Mike sits up, alarmed.
‘I’m going to stand out in the hallway again. Don’t follow me out there.’
‘But I, but ...’ Mike trails off, looking lost.
Gayle resists the urge to comfort him and walks out, closing the door behind her.
Out in the hallway, she exhales and leans back against the wall. Her nerves have made her knees wobble, but she’s proud of herself for finally standing up for Noah the way he deserves.
A door up the hallway opens and out walks the young Australian girl, Sophie. She doesn’t see Gayle as she checks that her door is locked. Sophie is as pretty as ever with her bouncy blonde ponytail, wearing a beautiful red woollen trench coat with black tights and knee-high boots. She looks up to see Gayle and, despite the bright red lipstick and pink blush she has on, Sophie looks drawn.
‘Oh, hi, Mrs Dawson.’ She pins a watery smile on her face. ‘Are you okay there?’
Gayle smiles back at her. ‘I’m fine, thank you, sugar. Just giving Mr Dawson some time to think about his behaviour.’ She can see that Sophie’s eyes are wet. ‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve been doing some crying there.’
‘Oh, no, is it that obvious?’ Sophie wipes her face. ‘I’d better get my act together before I head off to the market, then.’
‘Do you need a hug?’
To her surprise, Sophie nods and crosses the hallway into her waiting arms. The young woman, who’s always so smiley and chirpy in the restaurant, has a good cry on her shoulder.
‘There, there,’ Gayle soothes. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
Sophie pulls away. ‘You already have, Mrs Dawson. Thank you. I needed that.’ She sniffs and hunts for a tissue in her coat pocket.
Gayle pulls one out of her dressing gown and Sophie gratefully takes it.
‘I wish I had a mum like you.’ Sophie pats her face with the tissue. ‘You’re so kind.’
Gayle sighs. ‘No, I’m not really. My youngest, Noah, wouldn’t agree with you anyway.’
‘Well, I think you’re lovely.’ Sophie gestures to Gayle’s closed apartment door. ‘I hope Mr Dawson apologises for whatever it is he’s done.’
‘Oh, he won’t.’ Gayle chuckles. ‘But that’s okay. It’s nothing some of Signora Bianchi’s breakfast cake can’t fix.’
‘How good is cake for breakfast, though?’ Sophie smiles.
‘It’s the best thing ever,’ Gayle agrees.
Sophie heads down the stairs and Gayle steels herself before going back into the apartment. She finds Mike sitting up in bed with his arms crossed. ‘I don’t like this new version of you. Not one little bit,’ he says with a humph. His face is red and blotchy and his eyebrows are knitted together. ‘I hate this hotel and I hate what it’s done to you. I think that wicked Signora Bianchi’s been a bad influence. You’ve changed, and I want you to change back.’
‘Or you could try changing with me,’ she says calmly.